Assless white jeans.
Yes, assless white jeans. I didn’t see him come in for his interview because if I did I would have been like “Hell no!!!” So imagine my pleasure when he came in to start training. I didn’t notice the jeans until he bent over to grab his backpack and I saw his spotted, wrinkled ass. My eyes started burning and I left the counter and went to the backroom to discuss this with a manager.
Me: “He ain’t got no pants.”
Him: “What?”
Me: “Dude ain’t got no ass on his pants.”
Him: “Huh?”
Me: “He is wearing 90% of pants! And he got no draws on!”
Him: “Yes, he does.”
Me: “Watch.”
And he saw and gagged. Someone said he was actually homeless and felt bad for him so he was hired. Nope. The porn shop became a work release program apparently. He got the name Drunk John because, well, he drank. A lot.
It became super apparent one morning when I came into work and noticed that absolutely nothing had been done during the graveyard shift. I checked the security camera and saw Drunk John grab his backpack and vanish into the bathroom. He then emerged fifteen minutes later holding a cup and smiling his toothless ass off.
Moments later he grabbed a mop. I thought he was finally gonna do something. Nope. He mopped the cement floor in the back, brought a fan in to dry it, laid out some newspaper, and laid down and slept for the next five hours. He then woke up, stretched, and I arrived for work a few minutes later. This turned out to be the last straw and Drunk John was released. I got to see his ID (which had an address) and found out he was 35. The one thing I missed when he was gone and we continued doing years after he was going was this weird gasp/breathing after he drank something. You know the sound you make after you drink something that is stronger than you expected?
“Aaaaagggghhh…”
Yeah. That.
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